


And I'll Be Holding On (To You)

by crescentmoonthemage



Series: Joshler Stuff [1]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Josh in Love, M/M, POV Tyler, Shy Tyler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7624276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentmoonthemage/pseuds/crescentmoonthemage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, Tyler, what’s home for you?” Tyler thinks about it while the interviewer taps his pen and glances at the camera. He thinks about it for a long time, and almost says it. Almost. Home is brown eyes and toothy grins and far too many Snapchats and hair that’s seen all the colors of the rainbow. </p>
<p>Instead he says: “Ohio,” and leaves it at that.</p>
<p>Or, Five Times when Tyler Joseph Thinks of Josh Dun as More than a Drummer</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I'll Be Holding On (To You)

**Author's Note:**

> I love joshler a lot you guys

 

_ First  _

 

_ May 31, 2016  _

_ Columbus, OH _

  
  


It really begins that day. 

 

It’s opening night. Emotional Roadshow, Day 1, and Tyler thinks they’re ready. They’ve been dicking about the city all day, meeting some fans downtown, getting lunch at their favorite street-corner cafe. (Josh gets a double-cheeseburger and fries. Tyler gets a BLT and fries and eats both of their fries for them.)

 

Ty’s downstairs smearing black paint on his neck, his hands, in the empty dressing room. It’s only him, which is weird, because in the past their acts have been small enough to warrant them sharing a space, maybe even a hotel room, (there’s always two beds and Tyler wishes there weren’t) and the quiet space makes him feel full of air, heavy air, weighed down and tied to the ground. 

 

When there’s a knock on the door, it feels like a relief. He yanks himself out of his mind and opens it expecting to see pink hair and a red suit, but when he doesn’t, when it’s just a stagehand, that full-up feeling reappears. 

 

He shakes himself a bit, running hands through his hair. It’s no good to be distracted on opening night, not in Ohio, not here.

 

He follows the stagehand up, up, up, up dark stairs and dark hallways and finally they stop behind a door. Cheering, loud, raucous cheering, and suddenly he remembers why he’s there, why he’s doing it.  Tyler slips the ski mask over his face and breathes out, once. The full-up feeling’s still there and it’s twisting his stomach but when another stagehand appears and opens the door for him, he steps through it anyway, onto a darkened stage behind a darkened curtain. The cheers are getting louder, he’s suffocating behind the mask until he turns towards the drums and Josh waves a drumstick at him.  _ Oh, okay.  _

 

Pink hair, brown eyes. A smile to light up city blocks. 

 

_ I can do this.  _

  
  
  


\----

_ Second _

 

It really begins, then.

 

Tyler’s writing. 

 

He always writes on tour but this time it’s different, this time the words either pour from him like rain on the rooftops or don’t come at all. They’re all shit, the words are, he’s lost his verse. He’s written a page and a half of one single word when he realizes he’s on the last page of his Moleskin notebook and suddenly his room on the tour bus feels too pressing, the rock of the wheels and the roar of the engine too loud. 

 

He does what he knows, he goes and finds Josh. 

 

Outside in the hall the bus hits a bump and it knocks him sideways. He opens the door to Josh’s room and all the lights are on but there’s no one inside. The covers on Josh’s bed are all rumpled, a fact Tyler notices with some fascination before he realizes that staring into his best friend’s room at three AM is kind of weird and so he closes the door.

 

He finds Josh wedged in one of the community bunks surrounded by miscellaneous gear, drinking a RedBull and tiredly staring out the window across the aisle. When he sees Tyler, a small smile creeps across his face and Tyler feels unabashedly warm. He climbs up the ladder and moves some stuff around so he’s sitting next to Josh. It’s rather cramped, really, the two of them are squished together and surrounded by bags, boxes, and a large guitar case. Tyler doesn’t mind. “Hey, Jishwa,” he says, quietly. “What’s up?”

 

Josh shrugs. “Sleep just wasn’t happening, my man,” he says. He tips the can of RedBull towards Tyler, who takes it and takes a large swig. “Why are you up?” Josh continues.

 

“I was trying to write but nothing was working and then I filled up the rest of my notebook and everything got really cramped.” Tyler admits.

 

Josh shoots him a wide grin. “More cramped than this?” he asks, gesturing around them.

 

“This is cozy,” Tyler says, “Not cramped.”

 

“If you drink all my RedBull, I may sit on you and then it would really get cramped,” teases Josh. He tucks a lock of faded pink hair behind his ear, dark eyes full of mirth. Tyler just beams at him and takes another drink before tossing the empty can on the floor below. When Josh lifts up a hand to punch him, it’s soft and sets Tyler into a very,  _ very  _ uncool and unmanly set of giggles.

  
  
  


_ Third _

 

It really begins on that night.

 

After their sixth show, Josh comes up to Tyler. He’s grinning and all his teeth are showing and it makes Tyler feel very, very woozy, like his knees are weak. He hates the feeling, because he knows exactly what it is and doesn’t want to admit it to himself.

 

Before he can muse any further, Josh presents a bag to Tyler. He hands it off with some sort of flourish before dashing away. “Wait, where are you going?” asks Tyler. 

 

Josh shrugs.”To take off my costume, or some shit. Want to get a late night snack after this? saw a twenty-four hour diner on the way into town.”

 

Tyler grins. “Always, man. See you in fifteen?”

 

Josh gives him a high five and nods before walking the other way towards his dressing room. Tyler watches him go for a moment, shirtless, with ragged pink hair and white gym shorts. He looks like a PE teacher from hell, but he’s hot as  _ shit.  _

 

Back in the confines of his dressing room, Tyler opens the bag that Josh handed to him so excitedly. Inside is one object covered in tissue paper, which Tyler promptly rips off and tosses on the floor to reveal a brand-new Moleskin notebook. 

 

It’s red, and slightly bigger than the last one, and Tyler smiles when he sees it. He opens the front cover and is expecting a creamy white virgin page, but instead sees, in Josh’s thick and messy handwriting:

 

**_BEST FRENS NOTEBOOK OF CREATING COOL STUFF_ **

 

**_TO TY FROM JISH_ **

 

Josh’s drawn a small heart next to the writing and at first, Tyler smiles when he sees it, at first he touches the paper reverently but then he pulls away when he realizes what he’s doing.

 

He takes a felt-tip from his pocket and begins to scribble a sentence on the next page, and then the sentence is a paragraph and then it’s two pages, three pages, a song is taking hold all of a sudden.

 

_ I hate myself for loving you because loving you’s not what I should do _

_ What will I do _

_ When my mind’s a mess _

_ Like now, oh, god, now it’s less and less _

_ Or is it more and more I can never tell, no _

 

He’s finished the entire song, chorus and starting chords and all, when Josh comes to grab him for dinner.

  
  


_ Fourth _

 

There’s lightning outside. Everyone’s been forced to evacuate into the nearby convention center and rain’s pouring down, but what do those theatre kids say?  _ The show must go on.  _

 

They’ve been told the show’s being postponed an hour and the stagehands are all getting their gear out of the rain so now it’s just Ty and Jish sitting back to back. Tyler’s drinking Arizona and Josh’s eating some weird-ass flavor of Skittles that are turning his tongue blue when he smiles. They trade, every now and then, so Tyler’s pretty sure his tongue’s blue, too, but he doesn’t care because he’s half asleep and Josh is really warm against him. 

 

One of the stagehands comes in a few minutes later. Ty’s almost completely dozed off by then and Josh is breathing evenly against his back. “Show’s in thirty minutes, you two.” he says. “Also, your dressing rooms are across the way. You’re gonna have to run through the rain.”

 

Josh sighs beside him and Tyler can feel it reverberating through his entire being. They stood, and Tyler stretches widely before moving towards the door. The stagehand’s gone somewhere else, probably somewhere dry, and Josh and Tyler are forced to deal with the rain. 

 

Beside him, Josh begins to laugh. “What?” asks Tyler. He turns towards Josh, who scrubs a hand through his faded pink hair and grins. 

 

“I needed a shower, dog, I just didn’t expect to get one today.”

 

This makes Tyler smile despite himself and they step out the door together, underneath the awning. It really is pouring outside, and the dressing rooms are so far away. There’s a few assorted videographers standing around, so Ty gives them a smile. He turns to Josh, grins at him. “Ready?” asks Josh, scrubbing pink hair out of his eyes.

 

Tyler doesn’t give him a reply, just grabs Josh’s hand, twining their fingers, and dashes into the pouring rain. Josh’s laughing and they’re running and skipping and sprinting through the pouring rain and for a brief moment, Tyler forgets his regrets and his fears because with Josh next to him the world feels like fire, fire, fire.

 

When they’re inside the dressing room and Josh is scrubbing a hand in his damp hair and grinning with all his teeth at Tyler, Ty  _ knows.  _

 

_ Fuck me, I’m in love with him.  _

 

It really began then.

  
  


_ Fifth _

 

It never really began, because it was always there.

 

The end for Tyler starts about halfway through the American leg of the tour. The two of them are fortunate enough to be playing two nights in the same arena, which means they can sleep in a bus without the ground moving underneath their feet. 

 

Before the shows, somewhere in the early afternoon, Josh and Tyler are sitting really too close for two people that are just friends and being interviewed. So far, no one’s commented on it, but Tyler’s paranoid, because someone  _ will.  _ Someone always does. 

 

“So, Tyler, what’s home for you?” Tyler thinks about it while the interviewer taps his pen and glances at the camera. He thinks about it for a long time, and almost says it. Almost. _ Home is brown eyes and toothy grins and far too many Snapchats and hair that’s seen all the colors of the rainbow.  _

 

Instead he says: “Ohio,” and leaves it at that.

 

One show passes without comment. The fans are as rowdy as ever and Josh is grinning as widely as ever and Tyler loves him as wholly, as painfully, as ever.

 

When Ty wakes from a nightmare and immediately rolls over and wishes Josh were there, he knows he’s good and truly fucked.

 

He slips out from his room and pads on light feet, no shoes, up to the stage. All the stuff’s still there because all the techies were too lazy to move it, but for once Tyler is thankful. He does what he knows.

 

He plays.

 

Behind the piano, the night sky feels infinite. He plays a chord, makes it minor, plays another and another and then there’s a progression, then a song. 

 

_ You are a galaxy, _

_ Eyes shining wickedly, _

_ A thousand colors and I’m drowning in your gravity, _

_ Don’t let me be there when it all slips away, _

_ Don’t let me see when all we’ve built fades to grey _

 

He sings and he plays and he sings and he plays and for a long, blissful while, he is alone in his own miserable world until

 

One single bass beat behind him.

Two hits of the snare.

 

When he turns, Josh is there, sitting behind the drums. Dark circles line his eyes but he’s smiling. “That’s good, bud,” he says. “Play it again and I’ll get some drums to go with it.”

 

And then suddenly, Tyler’s crying. It’s those sneaky tears, the ones where you don’t realize they’re there until they’re falling. He’s crying and he doesn’t even know why, and all he wants to do is embrace Josh and all he wants to do is run away and jack off until all of his feelings go away and Josh  _ fucking  _ Dun can just be his best friend again, can be just a drummer again.

 

Josh stands from behind the drums, he’s running over and Tyler’s falling and Josh is catching him and Tyler makes this choked little sobbing sound against Josh’s shoulder and Josh is petting his hair. “Are you okay?” Josh asks, quietly.

 

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.” says Tyler. 

 

They stay like that for a long while, Tyler’s head buried in Josh’s neck and Josh’s arms around Tyler and Josh’s hand in Tyler’s hair, soothing. It’s everything Tyler’s ever wanted and he hates himself for it. 

 

Finally, Josh stands. “You know what fixes tears?” he asks.

 

Tyler’s still sitting miserably on the ground. “What?” he asks. 

 

Josh shoots him a wolfish grin. “Twenty four hour Denny’s. We’re getting a fat stack of pancakes and if I have to force-feed them to you, I will. Pancakes fill all the gaping holes.”

 

Tyler manages a weak smile. “Shoving a pancake up your ass is a little much, even for you, Dun.”

 

_ Finally _

 

It begins, yes, it begins.

 

“What will you have, sir?”

 

Josh looks up from the menu. “I’ll have the maple-bacon pancakes and a large iced coffee.”

 

“And for you, sir?”

 

Tyler swirls his empty glass. “Just water, please.” His voice is flat. 

Josh clears his throat. “He’ll have the stack of five blueberry pancakes with whipped cream and a large chocolate milkshake.”

 

The waitress gives them a strange look, but then she nods and leaves them. Tyler shoots a dirty look to Josh. “I’m not hungry.”

 

“Yes, you are.” says Josh, and well, Josh is always right. When Tyler’s large chocolate milkshake and five blueberry pancakes come, Josh steals all the whipped cream and Tyler lets him, and then when Josh’s maple-bacon pancakes and large iced coffee finally come, Tyler eats all of Josh’s bacon and drinks most of his iced coffee and Josh lets him. It’s a give and take, and suddenly, Tyler’s not that sad, any more.  _ Hey,  _ he thinks.  _ If this is what best friends do, then we’re on the fast track to being the best of friends ever. No love needed. _

 

Still, he can’t quite convince himself.

 

On the walk back to the bus, Tyler shivers. It’s that sort of crisp night, the November sky dark and a hint of snow threatening. Before Tyler can do anything, Josh sweeps his coat round Tyler’s skinny shoulders and leaves it there. They walk in silence. 

 

Finally: “Why were you crying? Are you okay?”

 

“A nightmare,” Tyler says. He neglects to mention the days and weeks and hours of want, of jacking off in shower stalls and whispering names at night before he even realized what a torture loving Josh Dun would be.

 

“What was it about?” asks Josh, softly. It’s a game they play, Tyler knows it. Too many years of anxiety-ridden boys living together and coping mechanisms start to develop. 

 

He shrugs. “I don’t even remember any more.”

 

“Then why were you crying?”

 

Tyler stops in the road. Snow is beginning to fall. Josh turns, trains brown eyes onto him. “Ty?”

 

“If I told you, it would ruin both of us.”

 

Josh looks concerned. He puts a hand on Tyler’s shoulder, it moves to the side of Tyler’s neck, thumb stroking Tyler’s jaw. “Tell me.”

 

“You don’t want to know.”

 

“I do, I do.” Josh is closer now.

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I just… can’t.” Tyler says, defeated. “It would tear our friendship apart.”

 

Josh isn’t listening. His thumb’s still restlessly stroking under Tyler’s chin, and he’s staring, staring. “Man, your eyes are this really nice color, and I’ve always wanted to tell you,” Josh says. Tyler smiles a small smile. “Yours are, too,” he says. “And I love your hair, I always have.”

 

Josh grins. They’re close, and Tyler’s hand, hesitant, comes up to meet the back of Josh’s neck.

 

“It would tear us apart, you said,” says Josh. His voice is low. “Nothing can tear us apart. We’re unstoppable.”

 

“What do you mean?” asks Tyler. 

 

Josh’s eyes flick down, back up. “Ah, fuck it,” he says, before he closes the gap and their lips are meeting. They stay like that for a long, long time, wrapped around each other in the middle of the street.

 

It never began, it just  _ was. Was  _ and  _ always  _ and  _ forever. _

 

“I love you, dude,” says Tyler, when they part. 

  
Josh smiles. “I love you too.”


End file.
